


For These Cramped Fragments

by the_rck



Series: Audari Empire [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Captivity, F/M, Politics, Science Fiction, Stockholm Syndrome, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-22 23:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11977557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: The very orderliness of theScarlet’ssurrender had been her first clue that her captain might not be as dead as his second claimed.His father would have expected him to die rather than risk capture. Perhaps the new king has changed the standing orders since the old man's death. Perhaps not.Apparently Captain Prince Vikenti wanted to live.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mossy_Moondark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossy_Moondark/gifts).



> All the ideas I had for this ended up being science fictional, and it offended me, for some weird reason, to put a general in command of a fleet of warships, even space going warships, so you're getting an admiral instead. I saw in your DW profile that you're a fan of Age of Sail, so I took that to mean no inherent objections to naval officers.
> 
> This story got much longer than I expected and really ought to be longer than it currently is, but I think I found a workable-for-now ending.
> 
> The title is from "Rocksteady", a poem by Ishion Hutchinson.

Admiral Mayda Hrorek knew what-- or rather who-- she was looking for. It had very little to do with what the spies thought she was looking for. Not that she'd have been adverse to someone pretty to share her bed for the next few nights, but she was hunting different prey, more dangerous and more rewarding.

She frowned at the monitor. She wanted clear images of each prisoner, but she didn't want anyone else to get such an image of the man she sought. And the prisoners were working hard at keeping their heads down when they couldn't keep their backs to the cameras. That alone was enough to make her certain that the man she sought was there, that the corpse they'd retrieved was a decoy. _If he is dead, it would be an incredible waste, but it wouldn’t upset our plans. He’d just be an unexpected advantage. If he’s alive._

She didn't want to visit the prisoners personally. That would attract the attention she was trying to avoid. She'd do it if she had to, but it wasn't something she usually did. _And, if the wrong people realize, I’ll have to turn him over for execution. If they realize after I have him-- Is he worth the risk? If we’ve missed a spy--_ She shook her head minutely and tried a new approach.

She let her eyes unfocus a little and gave herself five minutes to try to find patterns. Every man in that room knew. Their behavior would tell her.

“That one.” She focused the image on the man she wanted. His hair was the right color, an undistinguished brown, but very closely cropped, an appropriate length for who he was pretending to be but completely wrong for who he was.

 _Of course, removing hair is much faster than growing it. And the corpse was burned enough that there wasn’t any hair on its head._ She had to judge his appearance through a lens of imagination because his face was bruised and swollen. She remembered his cheeks being thinner almost but not quite hollow with his face tapering slightly between cheekbones and chin. It was a face that might actually look better with stubble. _The taper is still there._

The bruises on his face might have come from falling and tumbling during the battle, but they might equally be intended as disguise. None of the other faces she could see had quite that level of bruising. He wore the same orange coveralls as all of the other prisoners and sat slumped as if exhausted and frightened.

He might well be both, but it surprised her that he'd show it in front of his men. Except that, if he hadn't, he'd have stood out. Every man in the hold knew how bad things might be. If she were so inclined, she could kill them all. Some commanders would do worse. They might or might not know her by reputation, might or might not know that there were things she was unlikely to do.

They probably did know. None of them had objected to being kept on her flagship in spite of the limited space available, and their commander had ordered a surrender. Few Pynrian commanders risked that any more, not even with Audari commanders who had better reputations.

 _Conquest and rule through absolute terror. It works. Until it doesn’t. Even the best of us have done terrible things to achieve rank._ She took a deep breath. _Maybe tomorrow’s officers won’t have to._ She doubted that change would come that easily or, possibly, at all. _But I will try. The clan will have to give me that much._

The very orderliness of the _Scarlet’s_ surrender had been her first clue that her captain might not be as dead as his second claimed.

 _His father would have expected him to die rather than risk capture. Perhaps the new king has changed the standing orders since the old man's death. Perhaps not._

Apparently Captain Prince Vikenti wanted to live.

“Should we gas them before we pull him out?” Mayda’s aide and second cousin, Lieutenant Jaynos Hrorek, had pulled men out of similar situations for Mayda's amusement and knew that the prisoners might riot. He also knew her well enough to know that there was something different going on.

Mayda tapped her fingers on the table. Unconscious prisoners would be safer to deal with, but she wanted Vikenti to know what was happening. She looked at her cousin and said, “Use your judgment. This is… different.” She spoke softly enough that the guard by the door wasn’t likely to hear. That guard was probably loyal, but an error on that count would kill them all. “I don’t want photographic evidence anywhere. I don’t want written evidence anywhere. Take him through the corridors with something over his head.”

Her cousin’s face remained completely impassive, an expression that made him look stolid and not very bright. It had served him and their clan well in the past because it made their enemies underestimate him. He studied the image on the screen for several seconds before nodding. “Medical?”

Mayda nodded. _I should have thought of that._ She gave her cousin a genuine smile. He’d been with her for about fifteen years as he came up the ranks, and by now, he knew her as well as he knew their clan’s goals. “Automated. Paper record only, one copy for my eyes. No others. Treatment for things that won’t heal right, quickly, and on their own.” Mayda allowed herself a thin smile. “Try not to hurt him too much, but if you can scare him shitless, I’ll be pleased.” 

Her cousin considered then nodded firmly. “Worth the risk,” he said very, very softly.

“Yes.” She wondered if Jaynos had ever thought to resent her. He was sharp enough to rule, but no one had ever considered putting him forward because the roundness of his face and the flatness of his feature made most people think him stupid. There were candidates coming up behind her, just in case, but Jaynos would fall with her if she failed. 

He had a beautiful voice when given the opportunity to sing. Their clan didn’t value that.

Only the drive to power.

“Collar him.” She didn’t usually ask for that. Usually she wanted her bedmates to realize quickly that being with her wouldn’t be particularly unpleasant, would in fact be better than their other options. _The Prince is unlikely to be grateful for space enough to lie down or the opportunity to wash. He will probably understand the potential price, and I don’t have time to work on him with kindness._

Her cousin’s eyes narrowed. That, combined with his frown, made him look viciously dangerous. The effect was amplified by the fact that his facial features looked-- and had from childhood-- as if they’d been rearranged by a few too many fist fights.

 _Most people think he’s a thug._ He could be when it was useful, and right now, it was. Mayda hoped that, once their plans came to fruition, she could find him work that didn’t rely on that. 

After a moment he said, “Someone might notice the… differences in how we treat him.” 

She heard the question in the statement. She shrugged. “Better that than someone being certain. Perhaps… If they don’t know who he is--” She glanced at the screen. “--a personal grudge might be believable. Mine or yours. 

"We haven’t processed them yet, so there’s no name in our records.” She smiled, showing teeth. “And High Command has already said that the prisoners are mine. We’ll detour to our home system and leave them there. Who they used to be doesn’t matter.” She let her expression ask if he thought that would serve.

He smiled and bowed. “We’ll inventory them, then. No names, just numbers, general physical descriptions, and whatever we can pry out of them about their skills.”

Mayda didn’t say anything for several seconds. “No permanent physical damage, but I won’t object to the crew… enjoying the bounty of our success.” They’d taken about four hundred prisoners, men and women both, from the dying Pynrian ship before they stripped it of everything else they could move. She’d considered trying to tow it to in for study, but it was an older class, and if it had anything unusual in the way of weapons or propulsion or defense, the crew hadn’t used it in to defend themselves.

_I wonder who the Prince pissed off to end up out here, in that ship, without escort? It might matter. It might not. Maybe someone was hoping he’d die._

Her cousin took half a step toward the door then turned back. “Are you going to want to give any of the other prisoners, ah, personal attention?”

She glanced at the monitor. “Possibly…” She reset the monitor to wide view then stood. “You know my taste. Anyone who might appeal, just put them in isolation. I’ll take a look later and decide.” An idea occurred to her-- “When we off load the prisoners, keep several on board. It will be a little less noteworthy that I’m keeping a pet if we have others.”

He bowed. This time, he left without turning back.


	2. Chapter 2

When Mayda removed the hood from Vikenti’s head, he flinched at the light then blinked rapidly for several seconds in an effort to readjust. He didn’t try to rise from his knees. 

His bruised face was so carefully serene, that Mayda was certain he expected the worst. She ran a hand over his close shaven head. _No bruises there, just on his face. Whoever did that is a fool._ “I know who you are,” she told him. “There’s no point lying about it.”

He stopped breathing.

“It can’t be that much a surprise.” She very deliberately put a hint of reprimand into the words.

He inhaled deeply but didn’t respond otherwise.

“You’re lucky it’s me.” She gave a very small laugh. “I don’t think you’d enjoy High Command’s ideas about what should happen now.” She almost couldn’t see his shudder.

“So what does happen now?” His words were the barest whisper, but there was a hint of challenge in them.

She went down on one knee beside him and used a hand to force him to look at her. She deliberately pressed on the bruises on his jawline. “Whatever I want. You gave me hostages, after all, four hundred souls.” She wondered how long it would take before he’d bent enough to be useful, before obedience became habit.

His expression twisted briefly in what she thought was deeply bitter anger. Then his shoulders drooped almost imperceptibly. He met her eyes. “Your reputation is… a little less terrible than most.”

Which still meant that he considered her a monster. _Which I am._ She ran her thumb over his lips. “Do you need a demonstration?” If he did, she would, but it would drop her opinion of his intelligence considerably.

He studied her for a moment, and she realized that he was considering it, not because he needed proof but because it would tell him more about her. He shook his head.

She smiled and wondered if he knew how much he’d just told her. “I play with prisoners sometimes, for my amusement, but I usually prefer them to at least be able to pretend that it’s not rape and to know that they benefit by it.” She saw the moment he realized that she wasn’t giving him that. She tugged on one of the rings on the collar around his neck. “That’s when things are… temporary. You’re going to be with me for a very long time.”

His shoulders tightened under the weight of that. He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, his expression sharpened. “If you tell me what you want, you might get it faster.”

She snorted then stood and turned her back on him. “It could just be the thrill of a prince on a leash.” She put enough humor into that that most people would understand it as a joke.

He gave a huff that wasn’t quite a laugh then said, “You have that.”

She wondered what he would fight her on. There would be something; she was sure of that. He was smart enough to know that, if he gave her everything, all he’d have left was her.

She waved a hand in the general direction of the bathroom. “Clean up in there. You stink of the holds.” She could almost hear him not saying that it was to be expected when men were packed into a space that shouldn’t hold even half of them, but if he didn’t say it, she wasn’t going to acknowledge it.

The clinking of his chains was the only sound as he stood. He didn’t start moving toward the bathroom.

She laughed. “Of course. Washing would be difficult just now.” She turned to face him again. “Do you need chains?” She made the words as gentle as she could. “Will you feel better about not trying to kill me, about not trying to run, if you can’t?”

He inhaled sharply then looked at the floor. He gave no other answer.

She moved closer and skimmed one hand over his chest, just close enough to brush the cloth of the orange coverall he still wore. “I will wash you then.” She shook her head minutely. “I had intended you just for me, but if I keep you chained, someone will have to feed you and wipe your ass. I have neither time nor inclination, and I will not ask it of my steward.” She forced his chin up so that he had no choice but to look at her. “I have a niece and two nephews on board. All three are junior enough for the task.” She gave him a smile that she hoped would frighten him. “If they want to… use you, I will not object.” She left the fact that he didn’t have the right to object implicit.

If she needed to keep his hands chained, his presence would become a larger inconvenience than she had planned. _I need him to surrender, really surrender, or I need to kill him._ Sending him to High Command for death by starvation and exposure wasn’t an option she was willing to consider. _Better he doesn’t know that._

His flinch was almost too minute to be seen, but she was watching closely. Then, for a moment, his eyes tightened in anger. His lips parted then pressed together as his jaw clenched.

She wondered what he had wanted to say. She ran a thumb along his jaw. “Why didn’t you kill yourself? I would have.” _Maybe a whipping boy? Anyone from his crew would do. It wouldn’t even attract attention._

He exhaled slowly, and some of his tension went with the breath. “Suicide is a sin.” The words were flat, emotionless, and completely unbending. His eyes darted sideways for a moment then came back to her face. “Ordering someone else to kill me would still have been suicide.”

It was the answer she’d expected, but also one she’d hoped not to hear. Deeply held faith might make bending him harder. She shook her head and changed the subject. “Would you prefer I cut the coverall off you here or in there? You weren’t going to wear it again anyway,” she told him as he stared at her.

After a moment, he nodded and said, “Whichever is easier for you.”

“Here then.” She moved to her desk to send her steward a request for strong scissors. While she waited for them to arrive, she studied Vikenti. “It need not all be terrible, you know. It can be. I am certainly capable.” _But I think torturing you would give you something to fight. You want that, don’t you?_

He closed his eyes. “I am in your hands.” 

His intonation gave the words a formal, almost ritual sound that made her wish that she knew more about Pynrian culture. She’d spent three months on their homeworld when she was a very green lieutenant and another six months, many years later, as part of the delegation trying to find an alternative to war. _Officially trying, at least. High Command wanted war with someone. Pynria was simply convenient._ She considered her reply for a few seconds. “If there’s a ritual response, I don’t know it. And, depending, I might not give it if I did know.”

“It’s only an acknowledgment of truth.” The words were bitter and, she was quite sure, a complete lie. He looked as if he was about to say more, but he was interrupted by her steward bringing the scissors.

Briga didn’t even look at the prisoner, just walked straight to where Mayda stood and offered a choice of three pairs of scissors.

Mayda smiled. “I apologize for not being more specific, Briga. I want to cut cloth.” She nodded toward Vikenti. “He’s staying. Permanently.”

Briga glanced at Vikenti, giving him an evaluating once over. She raised her eyebrows but didn’t say what she was thinking.

“It’s political. More or less.” Mayda shrugged. She took the pair of scissors that she judged would work best for dismembering the coverall. “No one will ever believe you didn’t know, so you might as well. Prince Vikenti this is Brigavenereel Rin, my steward. Orders from her come from me.” She started cutting at the collar, just to the left of his neck, working her way down the arm. “Vikenti is a common enough name that I think he can keep it.”

Vikenti twitched under her hands, and the tip of one of the blades nicked his arm. He went still.

She pressed his sleeve against the small wound. “It’s trivial,” she told him. “I’m sure you’ve gotten worse just walking in the woods.” The constant camping and hunting and hiking was one of the things about Pynrian culture that she remembered fondly. “Briga, Vikenti and I will… dine privately tonight. Food for him that respects Pynrian dietary laws.” Which primarily meant no vat grown protein but also extended to a prohibition on some spices the Audari occasionally used.

Vikenti made a small sound, and Mayda realized it had never occurred to him that she could feed him something unclean. She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not that sort of cruel.” She shrugged. “I have no interest in forcing you to convert, either.” She would certainly be less than kind in other ways, but she wouldn’t do that.

Briga bowed. “What time, madam?”

Mayda started cutting the other sleeve. She took a moment to trail her fingers across the bared portion of Vikenti’s back. “Are you hungry, Vikenti?”

He shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t near the scissors. “Does it actually matter?”

“It might. This time.”

He bowed his head. “I… could eat any time.” He took a noticeably deep breath. “Waiting isn’t likely to harm me,” he said so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear him.

_No. Just other things that might happen in the meantime._ “An hour-- No, two,” she told Briga. “Add a few things that will keep if we let them sit a while after the meal.”

Briga bowed again and left.

Mayda circled around to stand in front of Vikenti. She was surprised to see an ugly, puckered scar on his chest, a bit below and to the left of his heart. _That must be from the assassination attempt three years ago._ She laid her hand on it. “I’m surprised you haven’t had this removed.”

“It doesn’t impede my function.” He trembled a little under her hand. “And it’s a… reminder.”

“Ah.” She caressed his side. “Ought I to leave you with a physical scar? Or two?” She smiled as she saw him realize that there might be an end to this that wasn’t death.

He looked away. “I am still in your hands.” This time, the words sounded less formal and more resigned.

Once she’d gotten the coverall off of him, she removed her own clothing. He made a small sound of protest, and she gave him a hard look. “I can’t wash you without getting wet.” She took two steps to where he stood and cupped her hand under his cock and balls. “Did you think I’d be shy given everything I’m planning to do?” She squeezed just a little and was surprised to feel him start to harden. “Or that your embarrassment matters?” _I misjudged. But he doesn’t want to want it, does he? Is wanting this sinful in his faith? Or just shameful because I’m an enemy?_ She couldn’t remember, and she wasn’t sure it was something she could safely research. _Not here. Not right now. But him turned on by this… That changes things._ She smiled.

She leaned in, pressed her bare chest against his, and brought their lips together.

There was a noticeable delay before he relaxed into the kiss. When she sank her teeth into his lower lip, he went very nearly rigid and made a sound that was almost a protest.

_Almost but not actually, and that’s not because he’s learned that he can’t fight me._ She bared her bloody teeth at him as she stepped away.

He turned his face away, refusing to look at her.

She shrugged and finished disrobing. She draped her uniform on a chair so that it wouldn’t get unduly wrinkled. Once she’d done that, she told him, “In. I want this done.”

He hesitated noticeably. When he finally turned to obey, his shoulders sagged a little. That was the only obvious sign of reluctance or shame.

Although she’d said she wanted it done, she took her time washing him. Her water wasn’t rationed, and she wanted it clear to him that she could touch every part of his body and that, if it pleased her to, she would. The only time she hurt him was when she pushed him face first against the wall and shoved three fingers into his ass without warning or preparation.

The sound he made wasn’t quite a scream. It ended in a shudder when he stopped trying to push through the wall in front of him to get away. He trembled in a way that she suspected had more to do with forcing himself not to respond, not to struggle, than with pain from the violation.

“I think,” she said conversationally, “that I’d like to see you with something constantly in your ass.” She curled her fingers to find his prostate. She smiled as he simultaneously tried to pull away and to push back against her. She teased him with that until he started sobbing. Then she pulled her fingers out and washed them carefully.

He was hard when she turned him around, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She stroked his cock. “I know what to do with that.”

He made a strangled sound that might have been a word but wasn’t one she recognized.

She decided that actually getting him inside her would be too awkward. _And wouldn’t get me off anyway._ Instead, she pressed his cock against her clit and moved along the shaft for friction. She paid no more attention to the rest of Vikenti than she did to the walls of the shower cubicle, but, after, she remembered desperate noises from him that seemed to both beg her to stop and beg her never to stop.

He was very near to coming when she was done, and he tried to follow as she moved away.

She circled his throat with one hand and pushed him back against the wall. “Once,” she said. “I will allow that once. If I use you and leave you wanting, then you want. Do you understand?” She made the last words hard as stones.

He nodded but his entire body spoke of anger.

She flicked a finger hard against his cock. “That thing is useless once it gets what it wants.”

She dried them both off then hooked a finger into the ring at the front of his collar and tugged to tell him to follow as she went out the door. Once they were in her main room, she hesitated. She wanted to get off again. _But that’s not the point, not in the long term. He’s not some pretty thing I’m buying with promises of a better life afterward. He’s-- I need to own him. I need him so obedient that it never occurs to him that he has a choice, even when he does._

She wondered if he understood Audari ways well enough to understand her clan’s goals and her own place as the point of the spear that would kill the existing regime. 

Or how a tame Pynrian prince might serve her once she had power enough to flaunt him.

_No matter. He doesn’t need to understand._ She tugged Vikenti after her into the screened portion of the room that held her bed. She gave him a slight push downward then patted him on the head when he knelt.

His movements and reactions were slow enough that, had she not known better, she’d have suspected he was drugged. The glare that he gave her was no better than half-hearted.

“I would like you to choose to obey,” she told him. _And to be honest with both of us about what you want._ She seated herself on the edge of her bed. “Have you ever been powerless before?”

He shook his head then hesitated. He looked at the floor and said, “I have been a surplus prince all my life.”

_You may not always be, not now that I have you._ “That’s a different sort of helplessness. Come here.”

He shuffled forward on his knees.

She stopped him when he was close enough and pulled him to lean against her legs. “You are helpless, Vikenti,” she told him as she stroked his head. She wondered if she needed to give him more proof or if a little comfort would be more effective. “When did you sleep last?”

He looked up at her. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” His lips twisted for just a moment. “It’s a hell of a lot faster to break someone who’s exhausted.”

She sighed and reached lower to rub a circle on his back. “I don’t need that level of speed. I would be surprised if… outside circumstances… change at all in the next three months. Or even in the next six. After that, yes, I will want you to walk two steps behind me without leash or collar. Without public sign that you’re unhappy or unwilling.” _Or frightened._

The shudder that went through him was stronger, deeper than any previous reactions. “You’re going to kill my brothers.” It wasn’t a question. There was a deep despair in his voice that she hadn’t heard before.

She considered for a moment before she answered. “That would be easiest, yes, but it will be my decision.” Other members of her clan might argue, might disagree, but she was the one they had given the authority. _And I don’t want to kill his brothers’ children._ “Are they likely to be… obedient? I have kinswomen who might like them.” She gave him a moment with that thought then added, “It’s not as if you were ever going to win the war. This is kinder than what High Command would offer.”

He shook his head. “That would end.”

“There would be no hope or pleasure in it.”

His answering laugh seemed to be wrenched out of him. “No shame, either.”

She left it at that until his breathing steadied. “Will you need help to stand?” She tried to make the question as neutral as she could.

“Possibly.” He kept his eyes on the floor.

She stood and helped him to his feet. Once he was steady, she turned to the bed and pulled back the blanket. “Lie down. Sleep if you can. I have work to do.” She did. She always did.

He stared at her.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I thought about it.” She let her hands wander over his torso. “I didn’t get to where I am by being impatient.” She guided him into the bed and got him lying on his side with his face toward the wall and his hands still chained behind him. She pulled the blanket over him. “You have a lot to think about. Mainly, this-- What do you think will happen to your people when Pynria is conquered by our forces? What would you pay to make that less terrible?”

She started to walk away then looked back over her shoulder and said, “And you might consider-- I think you will enjoy it.”

She left him there until Briga brought the food and then asked Briga to wake him. 

Part of her had wanted to look in on him; part of her had wanted to lie next to him and see what pleasure she could find in his body; part of her still wished that Prince Vikenti really had died in battle.

No part of her wanted to feel pity for him.

She remained seated as Vikenti followed Briga out from behind the screen. 

He looked more tired than when she’d tucked him in, but he stood straighter than he had. His eyes fixed on Mayda immediately. He stopped a short distance from where she sat and stood there without speaking.

She raised her glass to him. The determination in his demeanor struck her as different from the way he’d moved before she left him alone. He still didn’t look happy to her eye, but-- _He knows what he’s buying now._

She gave Briga a smile and a nod to indicate that she had no further orders. Once Briga had gone, Mayda said, “Do we still need the chains?”

He turned his head away for a moment. “I--”

She put down her glass and stood. It took only a few steps to reach him. She put one hand on the side of his face and applied a little pressure. She didn’t let up until he met her eyes. She moved that hand down his neck and along his shoulder. “If you want them sometimes-- or if I choose to put them on you again for a little while-- that’s different.”

He took a deep breath as if bracing himself. “I won’t fight,” he said in a near whisper.

She wanted more than that, but she supposed it was a start. She raised her eyebrows.

The next words sounded as if they were choking him. “I won’t--” He glanced at the door then bowed his head. “I won’t try to leave. Not until you say.” He hesitated for a few seconds then added, “You have more than four hundred hostages.” There was a deep bitterness in that. “You have billions.”

She smiled and ran her hand over his head. “Very little else matters in the face of that.” She wished his hair was longer so that she could grip it. “I’m still going to hurt you,” she told him.

He didn’t reply for a moment, but his breathing stuttered. “I know. I’m not… You need someone who looks like me but doesn’t want anything that you don’t.”

_So very matter of fact._ “It would be easier for you if you didn’t understand that.” She tried to imagine how it would feel to have pieces of oneself removed, to _know_ that it was happening and not try to stop it.

She didn’t want to-- couldn’t afford to-- pity him, but she could offer something. “That's not quite what I want.” She laid the back of her hand against his cheek. “I will work with it if I have to, but it is not my preferred course. Actually having _you_ would be better. If you are obedient.”

For the briefest moment, his expression deepened into horror before smoothing to resignation.

_What is so frightening?_ She considered asking, but him telling her seemed unlikely.

She removed the chains but left the collar. After all, he might have lied. She didn’t think he had, but he might have. _And the collar makes a point._ “You may use a chair,” she told him. “The food on the yellow plates is clean by your standards.” She returned to her seat and watched him as he tried to get his arms to work properly. “It’s fortunate that we won’t have a long voyage to drop off the rest of your people. I’m not sure how long we can keep them healthy without vat grown protein.”

He made a small noise of protest as he tried to make his hands grasp each other.

She gave him a hard look. “We don’t tend to carry much else, just some beans in case something goes wrong with the vats and a little bit of frozen meat for me and for my flag captain when we want to be decadent.” She didn’t say anything further until he seated himself across the table from her. “We salvaged some supplies from the _Scarlet_ and will use those for your people.”

He didn’t answer for a moment then said, “I’m surprised. People who aren’t getting protein are more… malleable.”

“Is that telling me that I shouldn’t give you any?” She let amusement into her voice. “As it happens, I’m not much worried about indoctrinating your people. They’ll be settled on a world my clan is currently terraforming, in small groups to help communities that don’t currently have large enough populations to sustain themselves.”

Mayda almost didn’t see the flicker of relief that crossed his face. _Yes. It could be much worse._ “They won’t be permitted to travel as long as the war continues. After…” She shrugged.

He nodded.

Neither of them had much to say after that. More than once, Mayda caught Vikenti studying her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She gave him opportunity by focusing most of her attention on her tablet while she ate. She didn’t look up until about ten minutes after he had finished eating. At that point, she offered him the barest hint of a smile. “The work never ends, does it?”

He didn’t respond for several seconds. Then he gave her a smile that she suspected was as practiced as hers was. He put both hands on the table. “I have none of that left.” His tone was entirely neutral. “I expect you’ll find something else for me.”

“I expect so.” _He’s going to bend and bend and never let me see who he was before._ She was surprised to realize that that bothered her. _It’s all me, too. There hasn’t been enough of him to matter._ She didn’t let that show on her face, just returned her eyes to her tablet. _If I want power-- I’ve done enough for that, so why balk at this?_

After she’d ignored him for a while longer, he shifted in his seat and said, “Please, may I use the toilet?”

She could hear just the vaguest hint of how much he loathed having to ask. She raised her eyes and looked at him for several seconds.

His hands were still on the table, and he had his eyes focused on them. There was a tension in his body that she took as evidence that he knew she might say no.

_Does he want me to? Does it matter?_ “Vikenti.” She put enough command into his name that he looked up in response. “I’m pleased that you thought to ask.”

There was enough wariness in his expression that she was certain he understood that that was not permission.

She smiled. “You may. Clean your teeth while you’re in there. I don’t wish to taste your meal on you.”

Once he was in the bathroom, Mayda stood and stretched. She put away her tablet and hung her jacket. If she were alone in her quarters, she’d have summoned Briga to take the dishes and her dirty clothing, but she thought that that might give Vikenti space somehow.

_And, though she’d never admit it, Briga doesn’t like violence. Or politics. She knew what we were when she signed the indenture, but I’m not sure that she really understood that it would rot her soul, too._ Mayda sighed and rubbed one hand over her face. _Every three years buys citizenship for another child in her family. Well, did. Now..._ Mayda’s clan had sponsored Briga’s extended family when Mayda pointed out that she needed to be able to trust her steward. 

The unpleasant word ‘hostages’ had never been mentioned.

Vikenti took less than five minutes to return. When he did, he dropped to his knees about four feet away from her and fixed his eyes on the floor.

“You know where the bed is.” She put reproof into her voice to imply that he should have known what she wanted.

His shoulders tightened, but he didn’t say anything. He hesitated for a moment then stood and walked toward the screen that hid the bed.

It took her a moment to realize that he had been trying to figure out whether or not she’d allow him to walk. Given that, she wasn’t at all surprised to find him kneeling, with his head bowed, by the bed when she followed him in. She left him there as she removed the rest of her clothing.

Once she was naked, she sat on the edge of her bed and looked down at him. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, instead considering and discarding several things she might say. “It doesn’t actually matter,” she said at last, “but I’m curious-- Are there religious issues for you with this?”

His head came up, and he stared at her. When he lowered his eyes again, his shoulders were shaking with laughter. After a moment, he said, “I’m not the one the Gods will judge. That part is all on you.”

“I will bear that.” She bent and laid her hand on his head. She rubbed her thumb back and forth across his scalp. _I doubt it will add much weight to my burden._ “You liked-- No.” She shook her head. “You were aroused by things I did earlier. Would you like to tell me-- if you even know-- what that was?”

His shoulders tightened, and he went completely still.

“I’m more than willing to push and experiment.” She put an amusement that she didn’t actually feel into the words. “It’s only that… Misery and terror have their purpose, and I have no objection to being brutal.” She was almost certain that he’d stopped breathing. “If you genuinely get off on any of this, I’ll try that first. Was it that I hurt you? Or that you couldn’t stop me? Or both?”

He made a small, choking noise of protest and shook his head.

“It’s a very small surrender compared to what you’ve promised me.” She shifted on the bed. _I can think of so many better things to do right now._ “I’m going to fuck you anyway, and I’m going to expect you to do everything you can to please me.”

“I am a Prince of Pynria.”

She almost couldn’t hear his words. “Not here. Not now.” She removed her hand from his head. “Look at me. You’re my fucktoy. Nothing else. There may be something else later. There may not. That part doesn’t make a difference right now.” _You knew that already._

He raised his head. “I said I wouldn’t fight. Please-- Isn’t that enough?”

_No._ “Part of not fighting is answering questions.” She patted the bed next to her and beckoned him by crooking a finger.

He stood and sat beside her. He didn’t try to resist when she pushed his legs apart and started playing with his balls. He met her eyes.

She leaned in and kissed him, taking her time about it and letting herself enjoy both his reluctance and his attempt to kiss back. When she finally pulled back, she studied him.

His breath was coming a little faster, and his cheeks were flushed. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She ran a gentle hand over his chest then raked the same bit of skin with her fingernails.

He flinched. His breath stuttered.

She smiled, making sure that she looked pleased. _But, really, hurting him to hurt him will be tedious._ “Are you still hoping for a miracle?”

He started to look away and then didn’t. Instead of answering, he asked, “What am I supposed to call you?”

_It doesn’t matter. No. It does. But--_ Rather than answer, she pulled him in close and kissed him again. She ran both hands over his torso.

His hands came up, very tentatively, to touch her body. He wasn’t doing anything she objected to, so she pressed her body against his. One of his hands found her breast, and the fingers of that hand traced circles on her skin.

For several minutes, Mayda let herself enjoy the sensations of touching and being touched. Vikenti gained confidence as the seconds passed. _Probably because he’s realizing I’m not going to attack, at least… not the way he fears._ She was a little surprised at how eager he was to go down on her, but later-- after-- she realized that it was a submission that didn’t admit to anything except what any man might enjoy.

Eventually, she got him flat on his back, straddled his hips, and got his cock inside her. She was just aware enough to notice the wariness behind his expression of eagerness, so she leaned down to kiss him and, before she straightened again, whispered, “Mine.”

He went still for a fraction of a second. Then he raised his hips to press deeper inside her.

He lasted a little longer than she’d expected, but eventually he bit his lip, made a sound of desperate protest, and went still. A moment later, he turned his face away.

She stayed where she was for several seconds before getting up to head for the bathroom. As she went, she tossed a cloth at him and said, “Clean yourself.” She didn’t bother to look back to see if he’d obeyed.

When she got back, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed. She ignored him and turned on the bedside lamp. Then she turned off the overhead light. 

He didn’t move.

She sat next to him. “I don’t mind Mayda when it’s just us or just us and Briga. Anyone else and I’m Admiral Hrorek.”

He nodded but didn’t look at her.

“You may sleep on the bed with me or you may sleep on the floor. I don’t care.” It wasn’t a choice she usually offered because she liked the warmth of another body in her bed, but she was curious as to which he’d choose.

He didn’t answer for so long that she thought he wouldn’t. Then he inhaled deeply. “The bed.”

She almost couldn’t hear his words, so she suspected that he really didn’t consider it much better-- _Or at all better._ \--than the floor. She waved him toward the bathroom and, when he came back, made him take the inside of the bed. She wasn’t at all surprised that he turned his back to her. Most men did, at least for the first night.

His body tightened noticeably when she cuddled up against him after turning out the lights.

She pretended not to notice, and eventually, he relaxed. She stayed awake long after he finally gave in and slept. _I’m almost certain… yes. The problem isn’t going to be finding weak points. It’s that he plans to remove all his strengths so that I can’t use them later. And not out of spite. I could engage with that. So-- Why?_

He was already awake when she woke several hours later. 

She knew it by the tension in his back and by the rhythm of his breathing. She decided not to acknowledge it and simply rose and went to the bathroom. When she came back, she started putting on clothing without even looking at him. _If he wants breakfast, he’ll have to say so. If he wants to shower, he’ll have to say that, too._ It was the best tactic she’d been able to come up with to address his intention of erasing himself. She was pretty sure that he’d have a harder time being absent if he had to make decisions and requests.

_If it doesn’t work, I’ll… come up with something else._

She could see him out of the corner of her eye, so she knew when he stirred. Given what she’d guessed, she wasn’t surprised that he slipped out of bed to kneel on the floor. “Good morning, Vikenti.” She was willing to give him that much. _Will he know it’s a lure?_ She stretched then walked out into the main part of the room.

She frowned at the dirty dishes and spoiled food on the table. _It’s unfair to expect Briga to have come in-- without making any noise at all-- while we were sleeping. She couldn’t have known when we were sleeping. If I’d thought, I’d have called her before I showered. Then this would be done._

Once she’d let Briga know that she was awake, she started in on the day’s tasks, those that could be done from her quarters, at least. She would have to split her force so that the area they had been patrolling wasn’t entirely unwatched while she delivered her prisoners. _The fact that I can be spared to do that should tell Vikenti more about how soon Pynria will be driven under than anything I might say._

‘Not unwatched’ wasn’t at all the same as ‘not unguarded.’ Mayda frowned. _The_ Scarlet _shouldn’t have been out here alone. Unless Vikenti dying was the point._ She tapped one finger on her desk. _I need to know what we got from their computers. It’s too soon to have decrypted anything, and I very much doubt that he’s going to tell me anything, but maybe… Yes. A test of sorts._

Vikenti didn’t come out from behind the screen until after his food had gotten cold. He just barely emerged and stood, staring at her, for almost a minute while she pretended to ignore him. He didn’t say anything, just tightened his shoulders as he turned away to head for the bathroom.

She’d been pretty sure that his bladder would force him out eventually. _Letting nature take its course there would be shameful in a way that starving wouldn’t be._ She fixed her eyes on the closed door and allowed herself a small smile. _And closing the door behind him is a little bit of self assertion. Good. I want that. Not too much of it but enough._

She looked up when he emerged almost ten minutes later. She gave him an approving smile when she realized that he’d washed, but she still didn’t speak to him, didn’t give him any orders.

He stopped a short distance from the table and waited.

She returned her attention to her work. _If he’s going to eat, he’ll have to make the decision._ When he finally sat, she said, “The yellow plates again.”

There was a moment of silence before he said, “Thank you.”

She watched as he served himself. She had eaten a bit from each dish herself. She thought he’d realize that drugging him-- _At least that way._ \--wouldn’t get her anything she wanted, but demonstrating that the food wasn’t drugged made a different point. “I will be out for quite a while today.”

He went completely still for a moment. Then he started eating.

She let the silence stretch for several minutes before she stood. “Briga will bring you lunch in a few hours. If I’m still occupied, she’ll bring you dinner, too.” She tossed a pendant with a call button onto the table. “If you truly need something, you can use that. If Briga judges the need not adequate, she will tell me, and I will… take steps.” She was pretty sure that specific threats weren’t necessary. _And he can’t have realized yet that Briga’s a soft touch. He will, and I’ll need to make sure he doesn’t hurt her._ “There’s a robe in my closet. You may wear it-- or not-- while I’m out.”

His eyes widened slightly. He looked at his plate and kept his gaze fixed there until she left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Vikenti wore the robe, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak to Briga or even to meet her eyes when she brought him food. _That would be… too much like trying to find a way to resist._ He could. He was sure he could. 

He was also sure it wouldn’t help anything. _By her name and appearance, she’s Givran. Born after the conquest, probably, but not a citizen. Making the best of what she can get._ The thought brought bile to his throat.

He wondered what the Admiral would do-- _And to whom._ \--if he displeased her. _I think she knows that I’m more afraid of that than of what she’ll do to me. She’s smarter than we thought and more ruthless._

He checked, just in case, but she’d secured all her modes of computer access against him. He wouldn’t have attempted sabotage, and espionage was pointless now. _But she can’t be completely sure. She can’t._ With that out of the way, he passed his time exercising until he was tired enough to think he might manage to nap.

He showered before lying down. He wasn’t sure the Admiral would be understanding about the stink of his sweat in her bed. _Not unless she had made me sweat._ He thought, though, that he was starting to understand her enough to be sure that using the bed was safe.

But sleep eluded him, in spite of his exhaustion. There were too many things that he didn’t want to think about, and he had no idea when the Admiral was going to return.

He was absolutely resolute in his determination not to think about how he had-- or hadn’t-- responded to the Admiral physically. _Sexually. No. No._ He pounded his fists on the mattress until he could force himself to think about something else.

He knew that his boredom and fear were part of the point of leaving him with nothing to do. If he was bored, he’d be that much more eager for her return. If he spun horrors in his head, he’d do much of her work for her. _She knows that I know, and we both know that it won’t matter._ She probably even had work that required her presence. Admirals didn’t generally live lives of excessive leisure. 

He was pretty sure, too, that she’d spotted how much he craved oblivion. _I’ll do whatever she wants. I have to, given what she’s offering. I’m just going to loathe myself for sacrificing my family for it._ The idea of not having to be there while his body committed treason was beyond tempting. And he wouldn’t have to admit that he-- _No. Not going there._ He couldn’t afford to want anything but hope for his people. He might lose everything-- _For nothing but shame._ \--that way. _She knows I want some sort of escape, and she’s not going to give me that._ He suspected that nothing else she might do to him or deny him would hurt as much as that knowledge did. _As seeing what I’ve done will._ He didn’t believe that she’d let any of his brothers live. _Or any of their children._

She’d be a fool to.

“At least,” he said aloud, “if she can’t deliver it will mean we’re both dead.” The possibility that she could but wouldn’t didn’t bear thinking about. Death by exposure and starvation didn’t appeal to him, but it would be better than having committed treason for no actual gain. _Father wouldn’t have understood. Biavri wouldn’t either, but… I think Kaneri would. Will. If… If we could have avoided this war, Kaneri would have been remembered as a great King. Now, he may barely be a footnote._

His older brother was smarter than he was and a more astute political player as well. Vikenti had always known that. _And it’s not just that he’s a decade older. Biavri’s only two years younger, and he’s--_ For about the millionth time since he’d gotten his orders, he wondered if Biavri had pulled strings to have the _Scarlet_ sent to where the Audari were certain to find it eventually. _I don’t think we found anything that will help the war. Unless-- Did Kaneri know about the Admiral’s plans?_

He wanted to believe it, but he was nearly certain that his brother, his King, would have told him if getting him to where he was now had been the point. _I can’t see him gambling that everything would fall into place like this. Sacrificing me, yes, but only for a plan he was sure could work. Could. Not would. And I’d have volunteered._

There was simply too high a probability that, going forward in ignorance, he would have died before being captured. _And Biavri is fool enough to think that it will matter next year who’s King and that I might challenge his plans. Does he think the Audari will vanish if he can get the crown on his head? That they’ll offer peace on terms that won’t destroy all of us? It would grieve Kaneri to kill him, but if we weren’t at war, if it were going to matter, Biavri would already have had an ‘accident.’_

He was very glad that no one was there to see him cry into the Admiral’s pillows. After that, he finally slept.

He woke again before the Admiral returned. Once he’d managed to shake off his grogginess, he considered more exercise but, instead, ended up sitting at her table, staring at the wall, and doing his best not to think. Every time his mind tried to go back to the shame and loss in his future, he created images of trees in his mind. _Bark and leaves and branches reaching for the sky._ He focused on the texture of the bark and the veins in the leaves. _The way the wind and the sun move through…_

He managed to calm himself enough that he almost didn’t feel afraid when the door opened and the Admiral walked in. He was pretty sure that his smile still looked forced, but she returned it after a moment. The smile gentled the severity of her resting expression.

_I’d almost think she meant it._ He gave himself a moment to study her. The dark red of her uniform didn’t quite suit her light brown complexion. _If it were brighter, perhaps._ It also neither hid nor emphasized her figure. He was pretty sure she had her uniforms tailored. In his experience, nothing from general stores ever fit that well. 

He suspected that longer hair would suit her better than the helmet safe and practical way she actually cut it. _But it makes her look more serious. Harsher? Maybe. Does she dye it or is there really no gray in the black? She’s better at only showing what she wants to than I am. Well, she’s had longer to practice._

Briga followed the Admiral in and started putting food on the table.

He hadn’t noticed the night before, but Briga was a little taller than the Admiral. _And maybe a little taller than I am._ She wore her hair braided around her head, and he wondered, as he always did on seeing such hairstyles, how she could manage the arrangement by herself.

Vikenti was pretty sure that the Admiral had meant him to strip the moment she returned, but he wasn’t willing to do it in front of Briga. The woman had seen him naked already, but he very much didn’t want her in the middle of whatever struggle he had with the Admiral, not when she gave every indication of not wanting to be there.

So he remained seated and kept the robe on.

The Admiral seated herself across the table from him. She raised her eyebrows slightly as her eyes met his, but she didn’t say anything until the door closed behind Briga. “And now?” Her voice was neutral.

Vikenti closed his eyes for a moment. Then he stood and untied the belt on the robe. “As you wish.” He let it drop to the floor. He opened his eyes, but he didn’t let himself look at her. He cleared his throat and made himself speak. “She doesn’t want to be part of this. I’m not going to--” He shook his head.

“Ah.” She didn’t sound angry. “I will accept leaving Briga out of this.” Her inflections told him that she hadn’t thought he would.

“She’s not actually in a position to help me.” _And she’s loyal to you. She has to be. You’re too sure of her._ He made himself look at the Admiral again. _Nobody can help me. Except you._

She stood and walked toward him. 

When she kissed him, he did his best to be cooperative and to make it a good kiss. He didn’t allow himself to flinch as her hands wandered ever lower. It was harder, somehow, to surrender that way today than it had been the night before. _Maybe I didn’t quite believe it was real?_

After at least a minute, she ended the kiss. She stepped back and studied his face. She raised a hand and skimmed it along the side of his face, brushing his skin lightly enough not to set his bruises screaming. “You should have kept your hair longer to hide that you don’t have bruises on other parts of your head.”

_We didn’t have much time._ “I didn’t expect anyone to look that close.” _And the risk from blows to the face was bad enough without banging on other parts of my skull._

“Your bad luck.” She said it lightly, as if it didn’t matter. “We should eat before the food gets cold.”

He didn’t think that needed an answer, so he didn’t say anything, just followed her to the table and sat. He expected her to focus on her tablet again, but she told him at great length about her visit to Pynria when she’d been a lieutenant. He knew she was trying to draw him into conversation. He could have resisted by remaining monosyllabic. _But conversation serves me, too. She knows it. She can’t not._ He told her what had stayed the same and what had changed.

Neither of them mentioned how very young Vikenti must have been when she’d been a lieutenant, j.g.

When the topic was exhausted, they both fell silent for a while until Vikenti asked whether or not she liked mysteries. He was pleased that he didn’t hesitate or stumble in addressing her as Mayda. _Even if I can’t think of her that way. I suppose it will come. Eventually._

Discussion of literature and favorite authors occupied them for the most of the rest of the meal. Vikenti knew more about Audari literature than the Admiral knew about Pynrian.

Towards the end of the meal, she made a light comment about expecting that the _Scarlet’s_ data storage held considerable opportunities for her to expand her knowledge of Pynrian culture.

Vikenti stiffened as his guts froze. “I can’t,” he told her. _Please. Haven’t I bowed enough?_ But he knew he hadn’t, not for what she wanted. _I’d almost forgotten. Even with being naked. How could I forget?_ “Please.” He looked at the table.

“Is it really that much? Compared with everything else, I mean.”

He heard her push her chair back, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when her hand squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s a very small thing,” she told him.

_And irrevocable._

“Is there anything in there that will change the course of the war?” The question was very gentle, and her hand never left his shoulder.

His belly tightened as he suppressed a bitter laugh. When he was sure he could keep his voice steady, he said, “You know there isn’t.” _It’s just the line between playing along and active treason. She knows that, too._

She sighed, and he felt her breath on his scalp. “If there had been you wouldn’t have surrendered until it couldn’t be retrieved.”

“I’d have done it even without there being,” he admitted, “if the _Scarlet_ had been built properly.” He felt disloyal saying that about his ship. _But she’d have been retired if we could afford to replace her._ “If there’d been a way to do it short of killing my entire crew.”

Her hand moved from his shoulder to the top of his head. “It’s that you gambled on surrendering that made me think this might work.” Her hand fell away, and he thought he heard her take a step back. She didn’t say anything for several seconds. “If you destroy yourself over this, any of it, Vikenti, if you make yourself an automaton, who will speak for your people?”

“You’re asking me to gamble that you’ll hear.” That was heart of the problem there. He might give everything and get nothing.

She made a soft noise that might have been a laugh. “If I don’t, you’ll be uniquely well placed to murder me.”

_Vengeance. There is that, I suppose._ He shook his head. “Even then…” He turned his head so that he could look at her. “It would only mean that more of my people would die.” _Or worse._

“No one is offering anything better.” There was more sympathy in her face and posture than he expected.

“No,” he admitted, “but… Letting me pretend for a little might be a kindness.” Nothing he’d seen of her gave him any indication that she would bother with such kindness, not when she didn’t have to. _But, either way, I need to know. It matters._

She shrugged. “I’m going to call Briga to clear the table. You’re welcome to wait that out in the bathroom or the bed. I don’t care.”

_Neither an answer nor a rejection._ He rose and went behind the screen to the bed. _At least there I can sit comfortably._ He listened carefully to the Admiral and Briga, trying to judge their relationship. _She’s not rude, at least, and I don’t think Briga’s afraid of her. That’s something. I don’t know if it’s enough, but it’s something._

He gave himself a moment to pretend that none of it was real. Then, when the Admiral joined him behind the screen a few minutes later, he managed to smile at her. _It will get easier. I know that. I don’t know what it will cost me, but it will happen._

The next days blurred. Sometimes, the Admiral left Vikenti with nothing to do. Sometimes, she gave him things to read, histories mostly, some specifically about her clan, but sometimes poetry or books on etiquette. He took it as a good sign that she was trying to teach him about her culture. He hoped she wouldn’t bother if she didn’t think he’d have occasion to use it.

They talked over dinner and over breakfast. He enjoyed that. Mostly. The shadow of the war, of what would happen to his family and his people, hung over everything.

And he couldn’t forget what came after dinner. There was too much shame in what she asked and in how he reacted to it, so he dreaded evenings. The Admiral very clearly wanted to know what aroused him and kept pushing forward with things he hadn’t ever thought to try.

Far too much of it, he hadn’t known would arouse him. Hadn’t wanted to know. It brought home very strongly how little of what happened to him was going to be his choice. He thought it would be easier to bear torture than the shame of wanting her touch and her power over him.

One night, after, when he lay in her arms, she stroked his head and told him, “It will get easier.”

He didn’t tell her that that was part of what he was afraid of, but he rather thought she knew.

The fourth morning-- He thought it was the fourth morning-- he gave her the encryption codes for the data files from the _Scarlet_. 

That evening, she gave him access to the Pynrian fiction files, both text and visual, from his ship. “I will still expect you to study,” she told him, “but that need not fill all of your time.”

He thanked her because he knew she saw it as a kindness. He made sure to open some of the files later so that the records would show he had, but he couldn’t bring himself to read or to watch anything.

He was actually happy to see her that evening.


End file.
